A Taste Of Dixie

The majesty of the state, purple mountains rising around them, and rugged slopes lined with larch and fir and pine, stole her breath. She was a speck amidst so much grandeur. But the man, dusty blue jeans, worn boots, his cheeks brushed with a few days' growth of beard, he was a fixture among it, as meant to exist in that environment as the boulders jutting out from the path.

Fear and humiliation sent Lottie Stratton running from her home in Georgia to her uncle's place in Northern Montana. ...